Their desire to kill or bend

We're different. They won't stop looking
at us. This mess we've made.
But we're different - you and me.
We climb the balcony of ancestry and
nose-dive into the bountiful colors
of the way
they won't stop looking at us. We're different.
We ride the bus different. We cry different.
We eat with wide mouths only
green foods
and spit geranium.
Those vulgar people. How do we live with them?
I'd say they are the silver eye
of the film we are watching.
I'd say they are the fiber's dye, staining
us. Look at them. They want us to give each
other back.
They want me to give you back to the streets;
you give me back to water's
indigo addiction.
And for a moment ... that ugly color.
But look at them looking at us.
They want us apart for what we might do to each other.
They shatter the mirror. They say,
come here for the kill.